I had taken care to have ready, within a little distance, a surgeon and his assistant, to whom, under an oath of secrecy, I had revealed the matter (though I did not own it to the two gentlemen): so that they were prepared with bandages, and all things proper. For well was I acquainted with the bravery and skill of my chevalier ; and had heard the character of the other; and knew the animosity of both. A post-chaise was ready, with each of their footmen, at a little distance. The two chevaliers came exactly at their time: they were attended by Monsieur Margate (the Colonel's gentleman) and myself. They had given orders over night, and now repeated them in each other's presence, that we should observe a strict impartiality between them: and that, if one fell, each of us should look upon himself, as to any needful help or retreat, as the servant of the survivor, and take his commands accordingly. After a few compliments, both the gentlemen, with the greatest presence of mind that I ever beheld in men, stript to their shirts, and drew. They parried with equal judgment several passes. My chevalier drew the first blood, making a desperate push, which, by a sudden turn of his antagonist, missed going clear through him, and wounded him on the fleshy part of the ribs of his right side; which part the sword tore out, being on the extremity of the body: but, before my chevalier could recover himself, the Colonel, in return, pushed him into the inside of the left arm, near the shoulder: and the sword (raking his breast as it passed) being followed by a great effusion of blood, the Colonel said, sir, I believe you have enough. My chevalier swore by G-d he was not hurt: 'twas a pin's point and so made another pass at his antagonist; which he, with a surprising dexterity, received under his arm, and run my dear chevalier into the body: who immediately fell: saying, The luck is yours, sir-O my beloved Clarissa!-now art thou. Inwardly he spoke three or four words more. His sword dropped from his hand. Mr Morden threw his down, and ran to him, saying in French-Ah monsieur, you are a dead man-call to God for mercy! We gave the signal agreed upon to the footmen; and they to the surgeons, who instantly came up. Colonel Morden, I found, was too well used to the bloody work; for he was as cool as if nothing extraordinary had happened, assisting the surgeons, though his own wound bled much. But my dear chevalier fainted away two or three times running, and vomited blood besides. However, they stopped the bleeding for the present; and we helped him into the voiture; and then the Colonel suffered his own wound to be dressed, and appeared concerned that my chevalier was between whiles (when he could speak, and struggle) extremely outrageous.-Poor gentleman! he had made quite sure of victory! The Colonel, against the surgeons' advice, would mount on horseback to pass into the Venetian territories, and generously gave me a purse of gold to pay the surgeons; desiring me to make a present to the footman, and to accept of the remainder, as a mark of his satisfaction in my conduct, and in my care and tenderness of my master. The surgeons told him, that my chevalier could not live over the day. When the Colonel took leave of him, Mr Lovelace said, You have well revenged the dear creature. I have, sir, said Mr Morden: and perhaps shall be sorry that you called upon me to this work, while I was balancing whether to obey, or disobey, the dear angel. There is a fate in it! replied my chevalier-a cursed fateor this could not have been !-but be ye all witnesses, that I have provoked my destiny, and acknowledge that I fall by a man of honour. Sir, said the Colonel, with the piety of a confessor (wringing Mr Lovelace's hand), snatch these few fleeting moments, and commend yourself to God. And so he rode off. The voiture proceeded slowly with my chevalier; yet the motion set both his wounds bleeding afresh; and it was with difficulty that they again stopped the blood. We brought him alive to the nearest cottage; and he gave orders to me to dispatch to you the packet I herewith send sealed up; and bid me write to you the particulars of this most unhappy affair, and give you thanks, in his name, for all your favours and friendship to him. Contrary to all expectation, he lived over the night: but suffered much, as well from his impatience and disappointment as from his wounds; for he seemed very unwilling to die. He was delirious, at times, in the two last hours; and then several times cried out, as if he had seen some frightful spectre, Take her away! Take her away! but named nobody. And sometimes praised some lady (that Clarissa, I suppose, whom he had invoked when he received his death's wound), calling her, Sweet Excellence! Divine Creature! Fair Sufferer!-and once he said, Look down, Blessed Spirit, look down!-and there stopped; his lips however moving. At nine in the morning, he was seized with convul sions, and fainted away; and it was a quarter of an hour before he came out of them. His few last words I must not omit, as they show an ultimate composure; which may administer some consolation to his honourable friends. Blessed-said he, addressing himself no doubt to Heaven; for his dying eyes were lifted up a strong convulsion prevented him for a few moments saying more-but recovering, he again with great fervour (lifting up his eyes, and his spread hands) pronounced the word blessed-then, in a seeming ejaculation, he spoke inwardly so as not to be understood: at last, he distinctly pronounced these three words, have taken the requisite informations in the affair. And it has cost some money. Of which, and of the dear chevalier's effects, I will give you a faithful account in my next. And so, waiting at this place your commands, I am, sir, Your most faithful and obedient servant, Sir Charles Grandison. Sir Charles Grandison, in his person, is really a very fine man. He is tall; rather slender than full his face in shape is a fine oval; he seems to have florid health; health confirmed by exercise. His complexion seems to have been naturally too fine for a man: but, as if he were above being regardful of it, his face is overspread with a manly sunniness, [I want a word,] that shews he has been in warmer climates than England and so it seems he has; since the tour of Europe has not contented him. He has visited some parts of Asia, and even of Afric, Egypt particularly. : I wonder what business a man has for such fine teeth, and so fine a mouth, as Sir Charles Grandison might boast of, were he vain. In his aspect there is something great and noble, that shews him to be of rank. Were kings to be chosen for beauty and majesty of person, Sir Charles Grandison would have few competitors. His eye-Indeed, my Lucy, his eye shews, if possible, more of sparkling intelligence than that of his sister Now pray be quiet, my dear uncle Selby! What is beauty in a man to me? You all know that I never thought beauty a qualification in a man. And yet, this grandeur in his person and air is accompanied with so much ease and freedom of manners, as engages one's love with one's reverence. His good breeding renders him very accessible. His sister says, he is always the first to break through the restraints, and to banish the diffidences, that will generally attend persons on a quite new acquaintance. He may; for he is sure of being acceptable in whatever he does or says. Very true, Lucy: shake your head if you please. In a word, he has such an easy, yet manly politeness, as well in his dress as in his address, (no singularity appearing in either), that were he not a fine figure of a man, but were even plain and hard-featured, he would be thought (what is far more eligible in a man than mere beauty) very agreeable. Sir Charles Grandison, my dear, has travelled, we may say, to some purpose. Well might his sister tell Mr Reeves, that whenever he married he would break half a score hearts. Upon my word, Lucy, he has too many personal advantages for a woman, who loved him with peculiarity, to be easy with, whatever may be his virtue, from the foible our sex in general love to indulge for handsome men. For, O my dear! women's eyes are sad giddy things, and will run away with their sense, with their understandings, beyond the power of being overtaken either by stop-thief, or hue-and-cry. I know that here you will bid me take care not to increase the number of the giddy; and so I will, my Lucy. The good sense of this real fine gentleman is not, as I can find, rusted over by sourness, by moroseness: he is above quarrelling with the world for trifles but he is still more above making such compliances with it as would impeach either his honour or conscience. Once Miss Grandison, speaking of her brother, said, My brother is valued by those who know him best, not so much for being a handsome man, not so much for his birth and fortune, nor for this or that single worthiness, as for being, in the great and yet comprehensive sense of the word, a good man. And at another time she said, that he lived to himself, and to his own heart; and though he had the happiness to please every body, yet he made the judgment or approbation of the world matter but of second consideration. In a word, added she, Sir Charles Grandison, my brother, (and when she' looks proud, it is when she says, my brother), is not to be misled either by false glory, or false shame, which he calls, The great snares of virtue. What a man is this, so to act !-What a woman is this, so to distinguish her brother's excellencies! What a poor creature am I, compared to either of them! And yet I have had my admirers. So perhaps may still more faulty creatures among their inferiors. If, my Lucy, we have so much good sense as to make fair comparisons, what have we to do but to look forward rather than backward, in order to obtain the grace of humility? But let me tell you, my dear, that Sir Charles does not look to be so great a self-denier, as his sister seems to think him, when she says, he lives to himself, and to his own heart, rather than to the opinion of the world. He dresses to the fashion, rather richly, 'tis true, than gaudily; but still richly: so that he gives his fine person its full consideration. He has a great deal of vivacity in his whole aspect, as well as in his eye. Mrs Jenny says, that he is a great admirer of handsome women. His equipage is perfectly in taste, though not so much to the glare of taste, as if he aimed either to inspire or shew emulation. He seldom travels without a set, and suitable attendants; and what I think seems a little to savour of singularity, his horses are not docked: their tails are only tied up when they are on the road. This I took notice of when we came to town. I want, methinks, my dear, to find some fault in his outward appearance, were it but to make you think me impartial; my gratitude to him and my veneration for him notwithstanding. But if he be of opinion that the tails of these noble animals are not only a natural ornament, but are of real use to defend them from the vexatious insects that in summer are so apt to annoy them (as Jenny just now told me was thought to be his reason for not depriving his cattle of a defence, which nature gave them), how far from a dispraise is this humane consideration! And how, in the more minute as well as we may suppose in the greater instances, does he deserve the character of the man of mercy, who will be merciful to his beast! I have met with persons, who call those men good, that yet allow themselves in liberties which no good man can take. But I dare say, that Miss Grandison means by good, when she calls her brother, with so much pride, a good man, what I, and what you, my Lucy, would understand by the word. (From a letter from Miss Byron to Miss Selby.) Richardson's works were collected in 1811, in nineteen volumes, with a sketch of his life, by the Rev. Edward Mangin, M.A. They were also included in Ballantyne's Novelist's Library, with a memoir by Sir Walter Scott. Later editions are Works, with a prefatory chapter of biographical criticism by Mr Leslie Stephen (12 vols. 1883); and Novels, with an introduction by Miss Ethel M. M. M'Kenna (20 vols. 1901). This last, which includes reproductions of the pretty old plates of Stothard, Burney, and the rest, is based upon Mangin's text. There are notable articles upon Richardson in Blackwood's Magazine (Mrs Oliphant), March 1869; Fort nightly Review (Mr H. Buxton Forman), October 1869 and December 1901: Contemporary Review (H. D. Trail), October 1883; and National Review (Mrs Andrew Lang), November 1889. The New Lucian of Mr Traill (1900) also contains, at pages 268-86, an admirable dialogue between Fielding and Richardson; and there are references to his work in Larroumet's Marivaux (1882); Jusserand's Le Roman Anglais (1886); Texte's Jean Jacques Rousseau, &c. (1895); and Erich Schmidt's Richards m, Rousseau, und Goethe (1875). A bust of Richardson, by George Frampton, A.R. A., was recently (20th November 1901) unveiled at the St Bride Foundation Institute, in Fleet Street. His North End house (formerly 49 but now 111 North End Road, Fulham) still exists, and was recently the residence of the late Sir E. Burne-Jones, Bart.; the Parson's Green house, which stood at the south-west corner of the green facing the King's Road which leads from Buckingham Palace to Putney Bridge, has long disappeared. An interesting sketch of it, with a misleading title, was engraved by J. P. Malcolm in 1799 AUSTIN DOBSON. William Somerville (1675-1742), the poet of The Chase, was, as he tells Allan Ramsay, 'a squire well born, and six foot high.' The patrimonial estate (to which he succeeded in 1705) lay in Warwickshire, and was worth £1500 a year. Generous but extravagant and dissipated, he died in distressed circumstances; and having no child to succeed him, for present relief of burdens he settled his estate on the Scottish Lord Somerville. He wrote a poetical address to Addison when he purchased an estate in Warwickshire. 'In his verses to Addison,' says Johnson, the couplet which mentions Clio is written with the most exquisite delicacy of praise; it exhibits one of those happy strokes that are seldom attained.' Addison signed his papers in the Spectator with the letters of the name Clio; and this is the couplet which so delighted Johnson: When panting virtue her last efforts made, In welcoming Addison to the banks of Avon, Somerville (like many another critic of the time) scruples not to rank him above Shakespeare: In heaven he sings; on earth your muse supplies Somerville's chief poetical ventures were The Two Springs, a Fable (1725); Occasional Poems (1727); The Chase (1735); Hobbinol, a burlesque (1740); and Field Sports, a poem on hawking (1742). The Chase, in blank verse, contains practical instructions to sportsmen; this is a bright sketch of an autumn morning proper for 'throwing off the pack :' Now golden Autumn from her open lap Her fragrant bounties showers; the fields are shorn; And counts his large increase; his barns are stored, And groaning staddles bend beneath their load. stack-stands All now is free as air, and the gay pack hollos In the rough bristly stubbles range unblamed ; Hail, gentle Dawn! mild, blushing goddess, hail ! Stothard illustrated an edition of The Chase (1800), as did also Hugh Thomson (1896). An edition of the works appeared in 1801. William Oldys (1696-1761) was a zealous literary antiquary and Norroy King-at-arms. He wrote a Life of Raleigh for the edition of Raleigh's History of the World edited by him (1736), col· lected a large and valuable library, and assisted every author or bookseller who sought help from his voluminous collections. He was librarian to Harley, Earl of Oxford, catalogued the library, compiled a bibliographical work called The British Librarian (1737), and edited the Harleian Miscellany. He contributed to several serials, and his diligence amassed many interesting facts in literary history. The following little anacreontic has been universally credited to the pen of Oldys, who, according to a later antiquary and herald, Francis Grose, occasionally indulged in too deep potations of ale. It was published anonymously as 'made extempore by a gentleman, occasioned by a fly drinking out of his cup of ale:' Busy, curious, thirsty fly, Drink with me, and drink as I ; Threescore summers when they 're gone, His John Jortin (1698-1770), the son of a Huguenot refugee, born in London, became a prebendary of St Paul's and Archdeacon of London. chief works are Miscellaneous Observations upon Authors, Ancient and Modern (1731-32); Remarks on Ecclesiastical History (1751–53); a Life of Erasmus (1758-60), which was for a century the standard English book on the subject; and Traits (1790). Dr Parr, the literary dictator, said of him: Wit without ill-nature and sense without effort he could at will scatter on every subject.' Robert Dodsley (1703–1764), an able and spirited publisher, the friend of literature and of literary men, was born near Mansfield in Notts, and was apprenticed to a stocking-weaver, but so ill-treated that he ran away and became a footman. His leisure he gave to reading, and in 1732 published A Muse in Livery. His Toy Shop, a dramatic piece, was, through Pope's influence, acted at Covent Garden in 1735 with great success. With his profits, and £100 from Pope, he set up as bookseller, but still continued to write bright plays-The King and the Miller of Mansfield (1737), The Blind Beggar of Bethnal Green (1741), Rex et Pontifex (1745), &c., which were collected as Trifles (1748). In 1738 he bought London from the yet unknown Johnson for ten guineas; other famous authors for whom he published were Pope, Young, Akenside, Lord Chesterfield, Horace Walpole, Goldsmith, and Shenstone. Among his schemes were The Museum (1742-47), a collection of historical and social essays; The Preceptor, a book of instruction for the young; and the Annual Register, started in 1759, and partly written by Burke. With a tragedy, Cieone (1758), acted at Covent Garden with extraordinary success, he closed his career as a dramatist. Dodsley is chiefly remembered by his Select Collection of Old Plays (12 vols. 1744; 4th ed. by W. C. Hazlitt, 15 vols. 1874-76) and his Poems by Several Hands (3 vols. 1748; 6 vols. 1758). See Austin Dobson's Eighteenth Century Vignettes (2nd series, 1894). This was Dodsley's own: The Parting Kiss. Drop a tear, and bid adieu : Yet, yet weep not so, my love, All my soul, and all my heart, And every wish shall pant for you, Patrick Abercrombie (1656-1716?), a descendant of an old Scottish Catholic family and younger brother of the first Lord Glassford, was born at Forfar, graduated at St Andrews, and practised medicine in Edinburgh, being appointed physician to James II. in 1685. A strong Jacobite and nationalist, he published two anti-Union pamphlets in 1707, one of them a reply to Daniel Defoe. His patriotism, however, found more notable utterance in his Martial Achievements of the Scots Nation (1711-16), a popular and discursive history of the national wars and struggles from the time of the mythical King Fergus I., three centuries before Christ, to the battle of Flodden. Abercrombie's aim was to defend the legendary antiquity of Scotland against the sceptical criticism which as yet had got no hearing or tolerance north of the Tweed; and in his earlier chapters he repeats and elaborates the fables about Caractacus, Corbredus Galdus, and Achaius which had been concocted by Fordun and Boece (or by the annalists they took them from; see the next article, also Vol. I. pp. 182, 212, 256). He shows an abundance of absolutely uncritical learning, and, in spite of his frequent divergence into controversy, his style is easy and fluent enough to justify the esteem and popularity which he enjoyed for a while as the patriotic historian of Scotland. The Antiquity of the Scottish Monarchy. Scotland boasts of an uninterrupted series of 112 sovereigns, that till this time have swayed its sceptre, since Fergus I., who began to reign 330 years before the Christian æra commenced, than which there's nothing so glorious, nothing equal or secondary in its kind. By this account Scotland has remained a monarchy, and monarchs of the same unspotted blood and royal line have governed it upwards of 2000 years, whereas, according to their own historians, France has lasted hitherto but 1309, Spain 1306, England 918, Poland 719 (sic), Denmark 920, Sweden 900, the Empire of the Romans in Germany 831, and that of the Turks but 420. The empire or Kingdom of China, 'tis owned, is of an older date than Scotland; but then, six several times, upon their own records, the race of their Kings has been changed by civil wars, and they have been four times conquered by foreign and barbarous forces; nay at this very day a Tartar race sits on the throne instead of a Chinese. Since, therefore, Scotland has such a pre-eminence over the very pretensions of all other nations with reference to their respective antiquities and races of Kings, 'tis no great wonder that some of our neighbours (and these are but few and late authors) have, through emulation and jealousy, attempted to strike out of the catalogue of Scots monarchs no less than 39, and to date the Scots government in North Britain from about the year of our Lord 503. This controversy was started by Luddus in the year 1572; Camden took the hint from him, as did afterwards the Bishop of St Asaph, and Dr Stilling. fleet from both. The last three were men eminent for their learning and parts, but, as Englishmen in all ages, prejudiced against a rival but lesser nation; which nevertheless the immense treasure, refined policy, nor numerous, well disciplined and better paid forces of mighty England could never deject from equality in all things but wealth. Archbishop Usher, a man whose excellencies the learned and pious will ever respect, and the Irish of late (for of old they thought otherwise), have made the like attempts upon the Scots antiquities, and the race of their Kings. Men of such a character, both English and Irish, could not fail to proselyte some few foreigners, as Duchesne, Père L'Abbé, and Thomas Bosius, into an opinion which, by depressing but one nation, flatters the pride and raises the pretensions of most others, their own in particular. But all in vain: Scots writers have maintained with their pens the rights and territories Scots heroes first gained and then preserved with their arms, and what these effected by dint of sword, those have made good by dint of thought and force of argument. Thomas Innes (1662-1744), a cadet of a gentle Catholic family in Aberdeenshire, was bred a priest in France, and studied and taught at the Scots College in Paris, of which he ultimately became Vice-Principal in 1727. From 1698 to 1701 he was in Scotland as a missionary priest, and in 1724 Wodrow saw him in Edinburgh consulting the Advocates' Library, and described him as ‘a monkish bookish person who meddles with nothing but literature.' His historical studies, which seem to have begun with his share in the arrangement of the records of Glasgow Cathedral, possessed by the Scots College, bore good fruit in his Critical Essay on the Ancient Inhabitants of Scotland (1729), and his Ecclesiastical History of Scotland A.D. 80 to 818, first published by the Spalding Club in 1853. The former of these works has been justly described by Pinkerton as marking 'a grand epoch' in Scottish antiquities, and leading the way to 'rational criticism upon them.' Innes was the first to assail the fabric of spurious history founded by Fordun and completed and adorned by Boece and Buchanan, and in the Critical Essay he dispassionately and laboriously demolished the whole legendary series of kings-the portraits of them are still in Holyrood-with which our ancestors had peopled the seven dark centuries preceding the actual settlement of the Scots in Dalriada. As the earliest to apply scientific methods to the Scottish historic legends and to print the authentic Pictish chronicles, Innes takes rank as the veritable father of Scottish history; nor is his position at all weakened by the pretty evident fact that he was stimulated partly by a Jacobite dislike of Buchanan and a desire to disprove the numerous stories of rebellion and deposition in the legendary chronicles. The Critical Essay is reprinted as volume viii. of the 'Historians of Scotland' series, Edinburgh, 1879. Thomas Boston (1676–1732), author of The Fourfold State, was born at Duns in Berwickshire, and educated there and at Edinburgh University. For a time minister of Simprin (from 1699), he was in 1707 translated to Ettrick in Selkirkshire, and there he died. His Fourfold State (1720) discourses, not without flashes of insight and felicity of diction, on human nature in its fourfold state of primitive integrity (in Eden), entire depravity (by the fall), recovery begun on earth, and happiness or misery consummate hereafter; and in Scotland was long recognised as a standard exposition of Calvinistic theology. As such it ranked in the esteem of clergy and laity next the Bible and the Confession of Faith; and in most pious Scottish households a copy of it was kept and studied by successive generations. The Crook in the Lot, a little book written in a quaint and striking style, was also a great favourite with the Scottish people. Many single sermons and collections of his sermons were published both during his life and after his death. The posthumous Memoirs-detailed, shrewd, kindly, tender, humorous, sincere-deserves a high place amongst Christian biographies. His entirely human frailties are as frankly recorded as his religious aspirations and fallings-away. Diametrically opposed as were their temperaments and views of life, Boston was one of R. L. Stevenson's recognised masters in style. Characteristic amongst Boston's phrasemakings is his warning to loose livers not to expect the chance of a leap out of Delilah's lap into Abraham's bosom. In the ecclesiastical courts Boston distinguished himself by his zeal for the Church's independence; and in the controversy regarding the Marrow of Modern Divinity, he defended the anonymous Puritan soldier's book against the charge that it was too free in its offers of salvation. Though by outsiders he is generally regarded as a typical high Presbyterian, he had much trouble at Ettrick from the open hostility of the still 'higher' Presbyterian Cameronians or Macmillanites, of whom, in his Memoirs, he speaks very sharply, alrnost bitterly; and even his own flock suspected him as too near of kin to an Erastian. Thus, unlike some of his brethren, he had no difficulty in proclaiming fasts appointed by secular government. At the end of the Memoirs he thus gives a judicial view of |